Hot Cocoa
by Elie.N.P
Summary: "They wouldn't say it'd been written since their first meeting. They wouldn't say they'd always been in love without accepting it. They'd be honest and tell you they'd really met during the war." One-shot


**This one-shot takes place after the war, and it doesn't follow canon because Harry died in the war.**

**As usual the characters may be OOC but I hope it won't bother you too much.**

**ElieNP**

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**Hot Cocoa**

Hermione woke up with a start, arms crossed in front of her face in an attempt to protect herself from whatever had been targeting her. If her throat hadn't been so dry, she'd have screamed. Her terror was so huge it even made her whole body shake.

Several seconds passed before she finally acknowledged her real surroundings and let her arms fall back on the bed. She wasn't in danger. Her bed wasn't a battlefield, it wasn't as cold and dirty, as sticky with blood as Hogwarts' grounds had been then.

She sighed, her sheets were soaked with sweat - as were her clothes. Damn, it'd happened again. Though they had become rarer with time, her night frights hadn't totally faded away yet.

She turned her head to the left, hoping she hadn't waken him up this time. He was tired enough without her preventing him from getting some well deserved rest. As her eyes met his frowning ones, she understood she'd been deceiving herself. He'd always wake up when she had a nightmare.

He always felt it when she was terrified. His body would have the first clue, touching her trembling one, then his mind would register the situation. His eyes would immediately shot open, allowing him to witness how bad her state was.

He knew – though she was frantic and it broke his heart - he had to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms. He'd tried to embrace her before but had given up when it'd dawned on him that it only made things worsen. Each one of his attempts to comfort her had been a disaster because in this state, terror-stricken, she couldn't bear to be touched, no matter if it was to offer comfort, not even if it was him.

Hermione was feeling guilty, guilty to be happy, to have someone she loved by her side. How could she smile? How could she laugh? How could her heart follow a joyful rhythm when he was no longer among them - among the living? Here it went again, she was feeling horrid albeit she had no reason to blame herself.

It wasn't her fault if he wasn't among them any more. She hadn't killed him. She had no reason to prevent herself from being happy, she knew it, was convinced of it, except when she was struck by one of those night frights. Fortunately they had become rarer, unfortunately everyone didn't think the same as her. Some people accused her of betrayal, people she was used to being very close to.

At the beginning, their reproaches had forced her to lock herself in sorrow, making her think she didn't have the right to feel anything else than grief. If it hadn't been for him, she'd certainly still be... a mess, such as the one her best friend had turned into.

Ron Weasley was still mourning. Several years after the tragedy, he hadn't taken one step towards recovery yet. He was unable to be happy, to share someone's happiness. He'd locked himself in his sadness and couldn't accept she wasn't doing the same.

Sometimes Hermione's old demons came back, making her feel like she ought to act like Ron. However, as soon as those thoughts entered her mind, she chased them away. Albeit she loved Harry as much as him, she didn't have to stop living because he was dead.

It could sound cruel, but as it was often said: 'Life goes on.'

Harry died in the war. He died facing Voldemort. He died and she had been unable to do anything.

She'd tried to move between him and the curse. Failure. She'd tried to heal his wounds after he had hit the ground. Failure. She'd tried everything she could have thought about at that time. Failure and failure again.

Harry Potter was dead. She was alive.

Her sorrow would never disappear. A part of her heart had died with Harry, and this part would never live again. However her heart was still beating. She was alive, she ought to live more than to grieve.

Ron'd chosen to give up on hope and happiness. Hermione had chosen to give life another chance.

"I've waken you up again," she murmured apologetically.

He gently caressed her cheek. "You know it's not a problem. Do you want something to drink?"

She silently nodded. What would she have become if he hadn't been by her side? 'Like Ron,' she thought sadly.

It pained her to admit it, yet it was the truth. If she hadn't had Draco by her side, she'd also have given up on hope. She'd have locked herself in sorrow and her life would have become a dull chain of even duller events. It couldn't have been called a life any more, as for Ron, he wasn't living, he was only surviving.

She felt Draco put a cover around her shoulders, and let a small smile stretch her lips. Although she still felt guilty to be happy from time to time, she'd never regret to have allowed Draco to belong to her life.

He'd been the one preventing her from being hit by the deadly curse. Not only that, but rather than simply pulling her in his arms, he had jerked her backwards while racing forwards to take her place.

At that time, during the finale battle, Draco had, for a long time already, stopped deceiving himself. He didn't hate the scarred boy. It'd only been in an attempt to please the older Malfoy that Draco had taken the grudge as his. In reality he had no reason to hate the boy, much less when he was the one fighting for a brighter future which, even he, a stupid ferret, could hope to share, much less when the woman he loved considered the boy a sibling.

Draco had seen the curse jolt from the wand. He'd seen Harry's legs fail him. He'd felt Hermione move by his side and had instinctively understood what would happen if he did nothing. Hermione would die if he didn't hold her back, yet if he only held her back, Harry would be the one to die and Hermione would be broken.

Two choices had been standing in front of him, he'd chosen to make a third one. He'd hold her back and take her place. He'd be the one preventing the curse from striking its target.

He'd pushed on his legs as much as the strength he'd had left then had allowed him to. He'd stretched out his hand to grab Harry, yet, in spite of all his efforts, he'd failed to be an efficient shield.

He'd seen Harry's head hit the ground - in an horrid sound - while he'd himself been falling to bit the dust.

Draco had no memory of what had happened after that. He hadn't heard Hermione's piercing shriek, nor had the cruel laugh of Voldemort reached his ears. From the moment his own head had hit the ground, everything had become pitch-black.

"Hot cocoa?"

Hermione nodded while walking to sit on the windowsill.

If she followed her heart, she'd say it was a miracle they'd won without Harry, but if she wanted to be honest, she had to say Harry was one hero of the war, not the only one. He was strong, but not the strongest. They'd made it without him being physically present by their side. Though overwhelmed by sorrow and rage, they'd still made it.

When Hermione had seen Harry and Draco both fall to the ground, she swore her heart had stopped beating. Her mind hadn't had the time to start fighting over who she'd go to first than her legs had already made their own decision, carrying her to Draco's side.

She couldn't tell how, but the second Harry's head had hit the ground she'd known it was too late for him, not for Draco.

Harry was her best friend, Draco the man she loved.

One was her past, the other was her future and, above all, her present.

Harry's fall, the sound of his bones breaking, Draco's fall, his wounds, Harry's wounds, the screams, the cries, the dead, the wounded, the blood, these memories were still haunting Hermione when she expected it the least. And Ron's state had added more weight to her burden for he had simply stopped living.

Not only his brother and his best friend were dead, but he'd also seen Hermione rush to Draco's side instead of Harry's.

Betrayal.

He couldn't agree with her. There had had to be some hope left for Harry, he hadn't died instantaneously, she could have helped him.

She had tried!

She'd rushed to Draco, healed him the best she'd been able to - in order to make Death step away from him – before racing to Harry's side. Not to rush to Harry first might have been a mistake of her, but each time she blamed herself for having done so, something told her she'd made the right choice.

She'd made everything which had crossed her mind to save Harry, all the while knowing it'd do nothing. She had to be realistic, even if she'd chosen him over Draco, she wouldn't have been able to change his fate – his wounds were fatal - and she might have lost Draco too.

Though the memories were painful, though Ron's anger - hatred even - was hard to bear, Hermione had no regret. She had made the right choice.

The right one didn't mean she'd made the easiest one. She'd been suffering a lot since then, the pain wouldn't go away in a snap of the fingers, but no, she definitely had no regret.

"Be careful, it's hot."

"Thank you," she murmured.

Draco sat behind her on the windowsill. She shifted to lean against his chest. His right arm came to rest around her, pulling her close to him.

"Have you seen Ron lately?" he softly asked.

"He doesn't want to see anybody," she replied.

That she was able to talk about her red-haired friend without bursting into tears showed all the progress she had made.

"What about his family?"

"He is still locked in his room. Nobody knows when he'll get out. At least we know where he is this time," she sighed.

Ron could disappear for months before coming back home, locking himself in his room, before disappearing once again.

"Have you tried to see him?"

She shook her head. "I love him, but I need to take care of myself, don't I? If I go, he'll only scream at me, and I'll feel bad. I'm being selfish but... but it's been three years already... and, and I feel better I don't want to..."

He tightened his hold around her. "You're right. You don't need to explain yourself, I understand."

"Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?"

"To be there."

He kissed the back of her head. "You don't have to thank me."

Hermione turned around to see his face. "I have to!" she exclaimed. "You've supported me for so long without complaining. You don't even get angry when I'm a pain in the-"

Draco silenced her with a kiss.

"I'm not easy to deal with either. You've been courageous enough to accept me though they all hate me."

"They don't-"

"You know they still don't like me. They can't accept the fact we're together, they're cordial because of you. They don't care about me at all. I'm a pain in their ass. A thorn in your foot they'd like to get rid of. Yet they can't, as long as you want me by your side they won't dare do anything against me."

Hermione closed her eyes. She couldn't say anything to defend her friends. Draco was right, they didn't like him and only made some efforts because they thought he wasn't the worst for her. They couldn't deny the truth, Draco'd helped her the most to go through the toughest time of her life.

He'd been there, and was still there. He hadn't given up on her. He hadn't played with her. He'd never deceived her. Draco had been honest, though Hermione's friend still called his honesty into question.

If you asked the couple about their relationship, they wouldn't say it'd been written since their first meeting. They wouldn't say they'd always been in love without accepting it. They'd be honest and tell you they'd really met during the war.

Their time at Hogwarts had been a masquerade. They both had been hiding behind masks which, once they'd been forced to face the tragedy of the war, had disappeared.

Hermione smiled as she remembered their first true conversations. They'd been very surprised to be able to talk so much, about so many things without insulting – or killing – each other.

She turned the cup between her fingers. They'd met during the war, and had never left each other's side since then. You could ask them why, they'd tell you they had no idea. Fate might have decided it was time for them to find somebody with who they'd be happy. With this person by their side they'd be able to overcome the numerous trials life still had in store for them.

Hermione was young, had face many hardships, was in love, had lost friends.

Draco was young too, considered a traitor, lived with the woman he loved, had been disowned.

Life was life, neither a piece of cake nor Hell. All they wanted was to make the most of it. They'd make the most of it. They'd enjoy each second which was offered to them, together.

After having swallowed some hot cocoa, Hermione almost purred. It felt so good, so right to be in Draco's arms. There even the worst memories couldn't harm her. They could reach her mind, but couldn't target her heart, Draco was protecting it fiercely.

"I think," Hermione began as she leant further against his chest, "I think I love you more than anything else."

"I know," Draco chuckled lightly," and I love you too."

He entwined their fingers. "It'll be all right. I'm there. I'll always be there."

Hermione kissed the side of his neck. "I know."

"We'll be scared, hurt, we'll cry and scream," he said, "but our life won't be only that. We'll also laugh and smile. We'll be happy and peaceful."

"Life isn't a piece of cake, it's a cake we make ourselves," Hermione declared while raising their hands to her eyes level. "As long as we are together, the recipe will turn out right in the end."

She elbowed him slightly as she felt his chest shake. "I know I'm being mushy but it's not a reason to laugh."

"I'm not laughing, I just find you very cute."

She elbowed him again. "Draco!"

"Yes sugar?"

Hermione shook her head. "You're incredible."

"Thank you."

She swiftly turned and raised an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you getting a little too cocky?"

He pecked her lips. "No, you're smiling again. I'm the best."

She smiled. "Sure you are."

"Feel better?"

"Yes, thank you."

"My pleasure," he kissed her tenderly. "Always."

Hermione snuggled closer against his chest. There were so many happy memories she hadn't created yet, she wouldn't let the painful ones take all the space. She raised their hands to her lips to kiss Draco's fingers. There were so many beautiful moments she hadn't lived yet. She didn't want to miss them because of her past.

Her present - their present and future were what she'd decided she'd live for.

"Always," she whispered against his skin. "You're being mushy too, aren't you?"

Draco laughed before kissing her forehead. "We're equal then, aren't we?"

"I like the idea," Hermione admitted.

"So do I."

"Draco?"

"Yes sugar?"

"Would you mind warming up the cocoa?"


End file.
